


It Kind of Tastes Like Childhood

by Whyistheskyblue



Series: You Can be My Compass [5]
Category: Marvel (Movies), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Bruce loves Peanut Butter, Clint finds out, Fluff, Gen, Science Boyfriends, Science Bros
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-30
Updated: 2013-06-30
Packaged: 2017-12-16 15:38:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/863689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whyistheskyblue/pseuds/Whyistheskyblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce really loves peanut butter.<br/><i>Can</i> be read as a stand alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Kind of Tastes Like Childhood

“Tony?” Clint called, stepping into The Lab. He scanned the space, wrinkling his nose as a foreign smell invaded his nose. Normally the room smelled like, well, The Lab. The particular mixture of chemical cleaners, motor oil, singed cloth, and an underlying edge of brilliance was one he had never encountered anywhere else. Today, however, he swore he could smell peanut butter. 

“Tony?” He tried again, moving into the half lit recesses. He scanned the area, his archer eyes looking for any abnormality that might clue as to where the pair had hidden themselves. He flicked through the chaos that was The Lab, over Bruce's station (a small, orderly island) , a few dim screens monitoring various projects, and back to Bruce's station. Sitting forgotten was a half eaten jar of peanut butter, spoon handle emerging from the top like a flag of surrender. 

“Bruce?” He tried, picking up the jar. It stuck a little to his hand as he passed it back and forth, the green Peter Pan swooping across the label mocking him. With a sigh he set the jar down and moved further back, where the lights were only on enough to make out the vague shapes of machines. In the darkness they seemed more like lumbering monsters lying in wait than instruments of science. A few more steps and the floor became softer. He had gotten to the carpeted area where Tony kept the couch he had occasionally crashed on before Banner had joined him in bed. 

“Jarvis, will you please turn up the lights?” Clint hissed, tired of feeling his way around. 

“My apologies Agent Barton, but I am unable to do that at the moment.” The AI quipped. “Sir and Dr. Banner are currently resting.” 

“And you let me get all the way back here, before telling me that?” The archer snapped. 

“I did not deem it necessary to risk interrupting their sleep.” Clint rolled his eyes and headed back to the door, pausing at Bruce's station to examine the jar of peanut butter. There was no sign of bread crumbs, no knife to indicate he had eaten it on sliced fruit. Not even a banana peel in the trashcan. There was only the spoon, it's silver handle slightly smudged. 

  


“Tasha?” Clint asked, ducking a punch and following up with a sweeping kick. 

“Hmm?” She asked, eyes sharp as she jumped over the kick. The two easily fell into sparring, their similar acrobatic backgrounds and fighting styles making them a good pair. It was almost relaxing to be able to fall into a pattern of trained responses without worrying about easily overpowering his opponent (as he often did when sparring against other Shield agents). 

“Do you know why Bruce would have a jar of peanut butter on his desk?” 

“Why do you ask?” She caught his wrist and flipped him over her hip, true secret agent style. He somersaulted through the fall, springing to his feet while she was still turning to face him. 

“Just curious. It seemed like a strange thing for a grown man to keep lying around.” He didn't tell her that Bruce had been eating it with a spoon. 

“Banner love the stuff.” She shrugged dismissively, huffing a breath when his elbow caught her stomach. Pressing his advantage he swept her feet out from under her, following her to the floor. “Peanut butter sandwiches are good bribes.” She added, her hands snaking up to his shoulders. She brought his mouth crashing onto hers, swallowing his surprised shout before rolling him (still locked at the mouth) onto his back. 

“That's enough you two.” Phil said from the doorway. They both looked at him in shock. 

“You're in Guam.” Clint protested, attempting the dislodge the other assassin. 

“Obviously not.” He smirked. “And really, is that any way to welcome me home?” 

“Let us make it up to you?” The red head was instantly on her feet, moving seductively towards Phil. 

“Please?” Clint asked, flipping to lay on his stomach, lowering his eyes demurely. Phil swallowed audibly, color rushing to his cheeks. That was the part of the training most people forgot about. The duo was more than a simple killing pair. They were spies. They were trained to do anything to get the information they needed. And they were very, very good at what they did. Best in the business, some would say. 

“I would like to inform you that Captain Rogers is headed towards this room.” Jarvis said, voice dry. Phil huffed a soft breath into Natasha's ear, teeth releasing her earlobe. 

“Bedroom?” She asked breathlessly. Phil knew there wasn't any acting involved. 

“Later.” He promised, winking at Clint. “I have paperwork to do.” 

“You always have paperwork.” The archer complained. Phil raised his eyebrow, quelling the next complaint that was about to bubble out of Clint's mouth. 

“Later.” He promised again, brushing past Steve on his way out. 

  


Tony swiped the peanut butter off Bruce's desk, sticking a spoonful in his mouth before passing it back. The pair had fallen asleep, exhausted, on the couch after Bruce had solved the latest roadblock on their project. They had been working solidly for two days (Bruce's ah-ha moment had been in the middle of the night, prompting him to shake Tony awake and race down to the lab), only emerging to eat dinner with the team. After the last time Clint had dropped through the ceiling and tied them to their chairs until they agreed to come eat, they made an effort to always make team dinners. It was less humiliating. 

“You know,” he mused, clicking his tongue to unstick it from the roof of his mouth. “It kind of taste like childhood.” 

“I know.” Bruce said around the spoon in his mouth, passing a bottle of water to Tony. 

“I mean, really. I can tell why you like it. It's like innocence and pool parties and warm summer days.” The inventor continued, rolling this tongue over his teeth. Bruce blinked at him. “If you had those things.” He hastily amended. 

“Okay.” Bruce stuck another spoonful in his mouth. The two settled back into the pattern of work, the jar of peanut butter with it's swooping Peter Pan sitting on Bruce's desk, the silver spoon handle smudged with two sets of sticky finger prints.

**Author's Note:**

> i needed to write something fluffy, and Bruce's love of peanut butter is probably my favorite part of my head cannon.  
> Also, Clint, Phil, & Natasha may or may not be in a light d/s relationship. Phil is just very dom-y (opinion on this?)


End file.
